He tried to picture his mother as a young woman, dressed in the light pink dress she’d described, beaming, while slow dancing with her partner, but for some reason, he couldn’t, despite having seen some pictures. When he tried to imagine her younger, he failed, the images in his mind just producing a crude caricature of the forty-three-year-old woman he saw before him. Perhaps, he realized, he couldn’t imagine her younger because she seemed perfectly suited to this age, as if were a particular style of clothing or hairdo that she wore well. The smile lines and wrinkles of her face didn’t seem like marks of age; it was if they had been carefully placed, like delicate strokes on a canvas, to add the finishing touches to a work of art.
He realized he was drinking rather slowly, but she was already halfway through glass number two.
“I’m sorry—can I pour you some more, hon?” his mother asked him.
“Sure.” She did just that, and then positioned herself back in the middle of the couch, with an empty cushion to either side. She looked at the muted television, which was displaying an ad featuring scantily clad young women exposing their strategically blurred breasts to the camera, kissing one another, and grinding suggestively on the dance floor. She caught Landon looking as well.
“Were you ever that wild, Mom?” he said, jokingly.
“Me?”
“You can tell me. I won’t tell.” Landon finished the last drop of wine in his glass.
“No, I can’t say that I was,” she said, looking at the screen through the translucent, now empty wine glass. “It’s never too late to start, though.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “How come there’s no ‘Moms Gone Wild’ videos?”
“Too bad I don’t have a camera.” Suddenly, his mother lifted her shirt up. She stopped after revealing a glimpse of the bottom of her beige bra, and then broke into a little laugh. “Aw, that’s not cool,” Landon managed, even though his breath felt stuck in his throat. For a moment, he’d thought she was going to flash him. He felt a slight surge of activity below his belt. Did he want that? That questioned was instantly answered as his cock began to stiffen.
“Not cool?”
“Yeah—you only get a T-shirt if you actually show ’em,” he said, attempting to pass it off as a joke. Suddenly, he wanted to see his mother’s breasts. The desire seemed to freeze every part of his body except for his growing member.
“Well, okay, Mister, but only because you’ve got no date tonight.” She narrowed her eyes at him in mock disapproval, and then gripped the bottom of her baggy blue shirt. “Here.” She lifted the shirt up. Landon could hardly believe it.
His friends had always teased him about his mother’s figure, but he had never looked at it through their eyes, and now, here he was, staring at the massive swell of her cleavage framed by a scalloped beige bra, the tops of her tits dappled with ruddy freckles, as if he was a younger teen getting his first glimpse at a nude magazine. His cock soared upward even as his mother let the shirt slide back down, concealing her wonderful rack.